


Hawks and Mice

by orphan_account



Series: In the Company of Wolves [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard arrives. Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/592511">In the Company of Wolves</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawks and Mice

Sebastian’s been at the flat less than ten minutes when the doorbell rings. He sets down his coffee and absently checks for the handgun that’s still riding the small of his back, unconcerned. He’s been expecting a package, something from one of the newer employees to see whether they’re worthy of keeping on, so he doesn’t bother checking the video feed first.

Then he opens the door and the air is scraped from his lungs, all the thoughts sucked from his head except for a quiet little mantra of _that’s not right_. 

Because Jim is standing at the door wearing denims and a slightly battered blue button-down and _glasses_ (for fuck’s sake), with a duffel bag and something that looks like a folded artist’s easel slung over his shoulder.

And Sebastian can almost believe that this is Jim done up in another one of his seemingly endless personas, except that he knows Jim is at the flat, heard him getting out of one of his absurdly long showers just a few minutes ago. More so, Seb knows Jim’s every pore and scar and strip of skin, and this man does not have them, this man is Not Jim, and when he meets Seb’s eyes his are jarringly soft and guarded and _that’s not right_. 

Not-Jim doesn’t say a damn thing. Just stares Seb down, head slightly tilted to the side in a way that is reminiscent of but not quite the same as his lookalike. There’s a subtle shift of muscle in his jaw as he looks Seb up and down, a flicker of familiarity, placing the missing variable in an equation. Sebastian opens his mouth, not at all sure what’s going to come out of it, but Not-Jim just steps right inside as though he’s memorized the exact coordinates of the place and he’s certain he should be here.

“Richard,” comes Jim’s voice from behind them both, a purr that rolls the letters into gems, slight stress on the ‘d’ giving the name a clipped, possessive sound. Richard’s looking at Jim with an expression that’s locked up like a door in a shit neighborhood and Seb thinks _that’s not_ —looks back and forth between the two of them, long and slow, assessing, and forcibly stops himself from saying _‘Twins?’ _, because he’s broken the fingers of people who’ve asked Jim less obvious questions.__

__Jim’s stalking forward and Sebastian’s thinking of hawks and mice, of rabbits caught in snares, of the spark that sets off a forest fire. Jim’s brushing his thumb down the length of Richard’s cheek and Richard’s shifting slightly forward, watching him, and now Seb’s thinking of the pain of Jim’s teeth in his shoulder, of pairs of eyes glowing at him from the darkness. Richard’s touching his hand to Jim’s chest, splaying it across his breastbone in a way that reads like long-standing habit, and suddenly Sebastian is the intruder here. Or maybe the one caught in the trap._ _

__“Jim?” He asks cautiously, reminding them both that he’s still here, wary of the whipsnap of Jim’s temper in the face of this unknown quantity._ _

__Jim purses his lips and doesn’t take his eyes from Richard’s face. “That will be all, Sebastian.”_ _

__And _that_ stings, doesn't it, when they’ve been together long enough that Sebastian runs half the business and has been sharing Jim’s bed for years. But Sebastian is intimately familiar with that tone, and knows better than to hesitate, so he takes his coat and leaves._ _

____

~

Sebastian gives them an hour. Goes to the nearby pub and has a pint, turning the image of the two of them over and around in his mind enough times that if it were a photograph it would be ugly with creases. Drinks the last of his beer like it’s a tequila shot and thumbs the phone in his pocket, composing a text in his head without sending it. Heads back.

Jim is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and his laptop, domestic as you please. Richard’s across from him eating the leftover lamb curry— _Sebastian’s_ leftover curry—eyes downcast and shoulders hunched. 

Jim doesn’t look up when Sebastian comes in, doesn’t seem to notice him standing in the doorway. Seb waits, because it’s what he does. Resists the urge to stare at Richard and catalogue all the differences between the two, suppresses the questions burning his throat. He’ll find out what he needs to know in time. Pushing Jim will only encourage him to hold back more. 

Eventually Jim sighs softly, runs a hand through his dark hair, and glances up. “Sebastian,” he says, dart of pink tongue and fathomless eyes, “this is _Richard_.” He says the name like it belongs to him, and Sebastian swallows. “He’ll be staying with us a while.” 

The barbed wire smile that settles around Jim's teeth is a touch foreign to Sebastian, and he feels it move electric through every cell in his body. Makes him think he’s straddling the brink of something impossible and dangerous, something with twice as many teeth as he's used to and even greater heights. 

As always, Sebastian’s ready to dive.


End file.
